Poetry by Kyrsta Morehouse

                ​​​ryangs CC




The Signs Were There.

As kids we drank wine from honeysuckles; drunk 
on sunbeams cloaking us in secrets. We burst 
 
into the yard at the first sign of light with the promise 
of your mothers voice to call us back
 
home, It’s time to let the sun go to sleep. Our daily 
adventures as we rehoused lady bugs to old 
 
blackberry jam jars wondering what happened 
to the “boy bugs,” officiating weddings 
 
between your chickens (even though they were all girls),  
countless hours spent playing house in the garden. 
 
I never knew why my chest swelled each time I got to play 
the husband, grass rings ordaining you my wife. 
 
I have a wife! But isn’t this how all little girls play? 
 
Grade-school girl on girl action rationalized 
because you only had Barbies (we did just fine without Ken), 
 
role-play doctor, obsession with Ariel. Sneaking 
peaks between pages of your mothers art books 
 
under the protection of our pillow fort, catching 
a glimpse of marble breasts and thinking
 
I just want to be her; soft stone smooth as velvet, 
each curve and dimple proclaimed art. 
 
Little did I know that deep inside I wanted 
to protect her, caress her, slide a grass band 
 
around her wedding finger, kiss my stone bride 
as you threw the rice, all before your mother 

called us back inside for dinner. 





The ABC’s Of Self Love. 

Asymmetrical scars frame my knee, a rosy-pink 
Birthmark branding my temple. These
Character marks once 
Deemed flaws, mark how 
Effortlessly human I am.
Fallible and flawed by design, we
Grow up with the task of learning 
How to love ourselves. Love every 
Inch and curve, every stretch mark
Jutting across your skin, every angel 
Kissed birthmark, every extra pound.
Look closely at your reflection
My love, your perfect imperfections 
Naked in the moonlight, glow an
O’ so heavenly hue!
Pen a love letter to yourself on the back of your thigh
Questioning why you ever cursed such 
Raw unfiltered beauty. Twist your name into
Scripture, each line reminding you 
To praise the skin you’re blessed with. 
Unveil love you onced pressed into the
Void, a heartfelt confession signed:
Without you, I am nothing.
XOXO All my love. 
Your time is now, gaze deep into your reflection and 
Zealously proclaim: I am a work of art. ​

Kyrsta Morehouse is a young bisexual poet. While her main career is as a celebrity makeup artist for fillm/tv, she is also diving head first into the world of poetry. In 2019 she self-published a chapbook of poetry and in 2021 has been published in AniHeroin Chic, Honeyfire Lit, and Tealight Press. By writing about her thoughts, feelings, and experiences she hopes to illuminate struggles for others so that they can feel seen and know that they are not alone.

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